Silver
by Krabby Patty
Summary: She was a vision in silver. Oneshot, PhilMelinda.


_**Author's Notes:** I haven't written fanfiction in a while, but after seeing the latest episode of _Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D._, I couldn't resist. _

_**Disclaimers: **I borrowed lines from the show, but this smutty take of that scene is all my fault._

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><p><strong>SILVER<strong>

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><p>She was a vision in silver.<p>

The subtle eyeshadow, the strappy heels, down to every piece of sparkling jewelry—including the giant diamond ring that was part of their cover as a married couple—and that dress. Sparkling, hugging her curves in all the right places, with a plunging neckline and a high slit that made his eyes linger where they shouldn't be. Silver.

On other women the effect would have been tacky, but Melinda May looked stunning. Her confident stance toned down the flashiness of the ensemble to something almost monochromatic, but there was still a dangerously edgy vibe to it. Phil Coulson could feel men casting admiring looks at her as he led her through the crowd. If only they knew just how dangerous the woman on his arm was.

Still, even he couldn't resist sneaking glances while she flitted around the room, flirting and laughing. His eyes wandered along with his mind. Back in the days pre-Bahrain, when he and Melinda went undercover as a couple, they usually immersed themselves way into character, even when all the weapons and the comms came off. Memories flashed through his mind and he stifled a groan, willing himself not to get distracted. Not now. Not yet.

Since he got her to come aboard the Bus, he had wondered if they would ever resume their trysts. It had been far too long, and Melinda may have changed, but in many ways it was as if they've never been apart. The closest he came to making a move was when they infiltrated Cybertek—the necktie and eyeglasses fueled much of his nighttime fantasies for months—but a part of him still doubted if the Melinda he knew was still there.

She was walking towards him now, and he attempted to concentrate on the operation at hand, except all he could think about was her dress. Wraparound. _Easy access_. He had wondered if she, like him, also thought of their previous encounters as much as he did. Besides the obvious disdain about her footwear, Melinda May was always deliberate about her choices, and he couldn't help but hope she chose this dress for a reason.

"My face hurts," she deadpanned, covering her usual grimace with an uncharacteristic grin.

Knowing just how much she wanted to do something productive than make small talk with socialites, and seeing a way to effectively focus on the mission, Phil composed himself and placed a hand on the small of her back. "Come on," he said, gently pushing her forward. "We have a cover to maintain and some details to go over."

Melinda allowed him to lead her to the middle of the room, not saying a word yet paying close attention to the layout of the room and the people within it. She was cataloging all the details and matching them up with what she remembered from the project brief earlier, when she heard Phil murmur to Skye about turning off their comms,

"We'll resume contact shortly," he said, plunging them into radio silence.

Phil had a goofy look on his face—one that's rarely seen since he took over as the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.—as he held out his hand for her to take. He watched in fascination as she almost scowled, then looked resigned, before melting her features into a smile and accepting his hand.

They fell into step on the dance floor. Anyone looking at them would think they were naturals, but every move was calculated, deliberate. She placed her hand on his shoulder, eying her diamond ring and a tall man in a black suit and sunglasses standing just beyond her range of vision.

"Hey, look at us," Phil smiled down at her. "You still remember the steps. Impressive."

They danced in the same direction, moving forward before he twirled her and pulled her close to him. Her back rested against his shoulder, and the angle gave him a view of her neckline. So much for focus. If he moved his hands just a little upward...

_Not now, Phil_.

"My 10 o'clock. Security chief standing watch," he murmured, keeping his voice low so she couldn't detect the wavering of his tone.

Melinda didn't seem to notice. "Dance elective at the Academy," she said, twirling again. "Of course I dropped it two weeks later."

In a practiced move that belied her words, she wrapped a leg around him. Catching her, he dipped her low so she could do more surveillance around the room. He used her momentary distraction to linger at her cleavage, picturing burying himself in between her breasts. With the way she was pressed against him, he was sure she could feel his growing arousal.

If she did, she didn't let on. "Dome camera. 3 o'clock," she muttered as he pulled her back up. In the same low voice, she continued telling him of what she noticed.

He spun her around. "I just wanted to graduate so I can get actual field assignments," she said in a breezy tone, smirking at him. _Oh, she definitely felt it._

Phil scoffed and let her go, allowing her to sway in front of him. She frowned and narrowed her eyes. "What?"

His mind was racing, fighting to sort his thoughts out and keep up with their conversation when all he could think about was figuring out which part of this house was unmonitored, and how he could take her there and have his way with her.

"You weren't exactly thrilled when we got assigned that retrieval operation up in Sausalito," he answered, eliciting a fond smile from her before she made her way behind him. "Coffee shop? Our first mission?"

"That's because the commander sent us in with no exit plan," she sounded amused, and a mischievous look lit up her eyes as she found her way back in front of him. "I was in the bay for five hours."

"I fished you out eventually," he pointed out with a knowing smile, remembering just what exactly they were up to before they made it back to home base.

"Come on. We used to have fun like this in our youth," he said, weighing his words carefully and wondering if she was thinking what he was thinking."You know you enjoyed it."

A smirk danced on her lips, giving her away."Yes," she admitted, her voice taking on a lower and more seductive timbre. "Then life happened. Nostalgia's fine, but I'd rather deal with reality."

Phil couldn't take it anymore. He pulled her close to him again, pressing his erection on the flat plane of her stomach. _This reality?_ He asked wordlessly, staring into her eyes.

Melinda stifled a gasp as she felt him, hard against her. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, trying to catch up on her breathing while feeling her heart beating fast against her chest and coils of desire unraveling in her belly. Her mind worked fast—they've been here for a while, the comms were off, they knew where the cameras were, and they had a few hours before the auction and their chance to steal the painting.

When she opened her eyes, Phil saw her pupils were dilated in lust. They stared at each other for a bit longer, having a silent conversation while his hand moved lower towards the curve of her ass, pulling her even closer. She squirmed, her hands moving from his chest up to his shoulder and behind his neck, before she pulled his head down for a deep kiss.

The party ceased to exist in those previous few seconds as he reveled in the feel of her lips. She tasted exactly the same way he remembered, and that turned him on even more. He surprised himself by still being able to think straight enough to pull away from her, suddenly mindful of their surroundings. She was breathless, and he saw a pink flush covering her skin.

Without saying a word, he led her away from the dance floor and down a maze of empty corridors far away from the party. She kept an eye out for more cameras and security personnel, thinking to herself that this part of the place definitely wasn't where the painting was.

Phil pulled her into a bathroom, and before she could register what was happening, he had locked the door behind her and pushed her against it, pulling the neckline of her dress down and burying his face between her breasts. She let out a moan as his mouth found a nipple, while his hands pushed aside the slits of her dress and moved up her slip.

Melinda pursed her lips to stay quiet, clutching on to his shoulders as a finger pushed her underwear aside and found her already wet. He need not bother with experimental touches and all those ABC's—he knew how to get her off, and he was going to get her there. He pushed a finger inside while his thumb pressed against her clit, and along with his mouth's ministrations on her breasts, it wasn't long until she reached the point of no return.

She buried her face against his shoulder, muffling her cries of pleasure as her climax hit. Her entire body shook, and her knees threatened to give way before Phil held her close and helped her ride the waves of her orgasm. He smirked against her sweaty, flushed skin. She may be quiet otherwise, but Melinda had always been vocal in bed. He wished they were somewhere else more private so she didn't have to restrain herself. _Perhaps next time_.

As she came down from her high, she opened her eyes and looked at him, who was now towering over her. "You still remember the steps. Impressive."

Without waiting for him to respond, she pulled at the lapels of his suit and kissed him again, while her hands made quick work of his belt, his slacks, and his underwear. She wrapped her hands around his impressive length, stroking him and making him grunt in her mouth.

"Melinda," he pulled away, his voice laced with want as he thrust himself into her hands.

She knew him too well, knew that he was close. In a swift move, she had him pinned against the door this time. Phil looked down at her and saw another smirk playing on her lips. They stared into each other's eyes again as her thumb flicked over the tip of his cock, gathering the pre-cum that was already dripping. Not breaking eye contact, she brought her thumb to her lips. Her tongue darted out to lick it. His dick twitched, and she drew in a sharp breath at the sensation.

She couldn't resist anymore. She fell to her knees and wrapped her mouth around him, sucking hard and fast, just like how he loved it. He let out a loud groan before remembering to keep quiet, taking a handful of her hair and pulling it from her face so he could see his dick disappearing between her lips. Her eyes flicked upward for a moment, and the contact was so fucking hot that he thought he was going to come right then and there. His other hand made its way on her head, and he gently thrust herself into her warm, wet mouth, occasionally hitting the back of her throat.

"Close. So close," he muttered, letting go of her head, but she didn't stop. She resumed the pace he set, running her hands up the inside of his thighs until she found his balls. Phil moaned again, his hands holding on to her shoulders and steadying her while he thrust in and out of her mouth again. "I'm going to come."

It was a warning, but she didn't pull away. She sucked harder and cupped his balls, urging him on until she felt him suddenly tense up, and a warm gush of liquid flowed from his cock, hitting the back of her throat. She kept her mouth on him, swallowing every single drop of cum until he was breathless and spent.

She rose to her feet, and looked at him, a self-satisfied look on her face. In a moment of tenderness, she wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and kissed him lightly on the lips.

He looked down at her and grinned lazily, looking equally self-satisfied. "I really love that dress on you."

Composed and straightened out, they went back into the party and danced the night away in a flash of silver.

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><p><strong>End.<strong>


End file.
